


Captive Conversations

by silentexplorer18



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Attempted Murder, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Fear, Fear of Death, Languages, Mild Injury, Nen (Hunter X Hunter), Not an Unhappy Ending, Not in a sexy way, Poison, Weapons, a few times, and some sass, but this also isn't fluff, change of hearts, phantom troupe, their general schenanigans, you nearly lose a finger, you're tied up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentexplorer18/pseuds/silentexplorer18
Summary: You trade your life for someone you know, offering yourself as a sacrifice to the group of thieves.  When Feitan prepares to torture you, all you can hope is that it’ll be over soon.I know the warnings sound kind of violent, but I promise it isn’t that bad!
Relationships: Feitan (Hunter X Hunter)/Reader, Feitan (Hunter X Hunter)/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	Captive Conversations

Kenta was foolish. You knew not to go off stealing from criminals, but he couldn’t be bothered to listen to you. You knew not to ask for trouble, but he welcomed it with open arms. He was a young, foolish child. He may as well die behaving so recklessly, ignoring your judgement, but you couldn’t let him. He was too young to die so tragically; he had so much left worth living for. You needed to save him. Which is why you rushed after him when he disappeared, sure of where he’d gone but dreading it all the same.

You knew enough to know he wouldn’t live as you stood there staring at the man holding him. Large, strong shoulders, a nearly sickly grin. Kenta couldn’t die like this, not after one foolish mistake with dangerous people. His mother would be heartbroken.

“Take me,” you blurted, words more reflexive than sincere. “Take me instead of him. Let him go. I’ll repent.”

Somehow, you’d convinced them to agree.

The sickly grin of the larger man was quickly replaced by the uncaring glare of someone much smaller. Though, his stature spoke nothing of the power thrumming in his core. You could feel it in his grip as he chained you up, hanging above the floor like a piece of meat for slaughter.

He walked across the room, examining a myriad of items on a table. You were glad you couldn’t see everything from your angle. However, you feared the worst. Stringing you up had to mean he enjoyed drawing out your last breath, but how? Stabbing? Electrocution? Suffocation? Uncertainty allowed the mind to run wild with possibilities; maybe that’s why he’d left you at such an odd angle, table just out of view.

“Why you trade? You love him?” the man asked, running the edge of the blade along his thumb. His voice was quiet, and you almost missed his words over the thrum of your own heartbeat. Yet the question helped, allowing your mind to hone in on _something_ rather than skitter through the infinite possibilities of your demise.

“He’s an imbecile,” you sighed, eyes downcast as you thought of him. “But now he knows better than to cross thieves.”

He was in front of you then, faster than you could blink. Your heart stuttered, thundering in your throat. At least things would be over soon. Apparently the blade was sharp enough for his taste.

“You love him?” he asked again, fixing you with an unreadable stare.

“No.”

“Then why you take place?”

The sword was in his left hand. One correct swipe to your leg and you’d be dead in seconds. At least it all would be over soon.

“He has someone worth living for.”

“Mommy?” His tone was mocking, and you couldn’t stop the laugh bubbling in your throat. It spilled over your lips before you could help it, nerves setting you on edge.

“Yes. That’s right.”

His brows furrowed deeper, and you quickly stopped laughing. Maybe you’d insulted him. It hadn’t been intentional.

“You not have family?”

You shook your head ‘no,’ gaze trailing from his face down to the blade again. Whatever he wanted from you, there was nothing worth taking. It would all be over soon.

“Where you live?”

“Here and there.” His hand pressed against your neck, firm grip threatening your airway. “The streets,” you amended, feeling the pressure lessen. He could snap your neck if he wanted to. It would’ve been easy for him. “I never know where I’m going.”

“You steal, too? Like friend?”

The air felt sticky between you, too warm with your panting breaths. It was only cooled by his icy stare. He looked disgusted by you, bored even.

“Only when I have to.” He watched you, and you continued. “Which is almost always.”

He walked away then, sword seemingly vanishing. “You know how to fight?”

“A little.”

The door shut behind him.

It wasn’t over yet.

* * *

You woke with sore wrists and a headache. The dust did nothing to quell your allergies, burning through your throat and eyes. It was then you realized that you were on the ground. Someone must have moved you while you were asleep. How you hadn’t woken, you hadn’t the faintest clue.

Your legs burned as you sat up, the change in pressure making them nearly throb. But they seemed unscathed other than the numbness. Hopefully they’d regain feeling soon.

Waiting to stand, you looked around. The room was dark and foreboding. The walls were high, a few jagged windows jutting out far beyond your reach. The only other exit was the door, which you were sure your captors had locked. Why he’d left you unscathed, you didn’t know. Standing, you moved toward the table, the only point of interest in the room. There was a glass of clear liquid on the table—probably water—and some crumbling bread. Were they keeping you alive?

Glancing by the door, you bit your lip. It couldn’t hurt to check, right? So you did exactly that, jiggling the handle to no avail. You moved back to the table, reassessing your plan. Pocketing the bread, you sipped the water, throat dry from laying face-down in the dust. The only way out was up. Could you make it? As high as it was, surely not. But there wasn’t an alternative.

What you missed was Feitan lurking in the darkest corner of the room, concealing his presence while watching in irritation as your fingers ghosted the tools he’d left on the table. Though, it didn’t matter much; you’d be dead soon enough. He’d left the bread to prolong your suffering. Your stomach would absorb the bread along with the poison in the cup, causing it to impact your body much slower. Foregoing the bread just meant he wouldn’t get as much of a show. But he’d wait for his show nonetheless, practically holding his breath to see what you’d do next.

It looked like you wanted to escape. You kept glancing up toward the window as though it would provide an exit. At least he’d watch you struggle to the end. That would make up for the frustration pooling in his chest at the sight of you uncoiling the rope he’d left out.

Your hands skittered across the table, looking for the heaviest object you could manage to throw. It had been years since you’d attempted ascending a wall, but you hoped muscle memory could kick in and save the day.

Feitan wondered what you were doing. You certainly weren’t strong enough to escape, especially not with the poison slowly working through your body.

An item leaning against the wall, akin to a fire poker, is what you ended up choosing. More like a javelin than a weight, you hoped the extra distance would come in handy when you threw it. You would only have a few chances; every miss would cause a clang loud enough to draw attention. You were on borrowed time.

Whatever happened, it would all be over soon.

The first toss was far too low, ricocheting against the wall. It made a small bang, but you caught it before it could make impact with the ground. Feitan mentally sighed. What a boring way to end his day.

Your second throw was better. He was actually a bit surprised as he watched the metal clang against the closed window. Your aim wasn’t excellent, but you had a decent arm. Pity you’d waste all your strength so close to the end. It had been at least fifteen minutes since you’d taken the poison; it would start to act in your system soon. Then he could get on with more entertaining endeavors.

A third throw had almost made it, but the metal ricocheted off the wall. You rushed to catch it, and Feitan watched in amusement as you cut your hand, nearly slicing off a finger. How unfortunate. Perhaps the poison was working, making your reflexes slow. Quite unlucky.

A forth throw sent the bar flying through the window. You wrenched forward with the force, nearly slamming against the wall. Your adrenaline was pounding in your ears; there wasn’t much time left to act before someone found you.

Pulling the rope taunt, you began to try to climb. However, your arms were tired, hands raw from the rough cord digging into your flesh. You heard a slam down the hall, heart hammering as you realized you were running out of time. If they caught you like this, the consequences would be severe.

_ Please, please, please _ , you whispered to yourself, squeezing your hands a little tighter.  _ Just let this work. Please? _ You lept at the wall, using the tension from the rope to jump to the adjoining wall, making it to the ledge in three jumps. Gasping a breath of fresh air, you wiggled through the window, feeling the glass slice against your shoulder before sliding down the rope to the ground. With nothing else left to do, you ran.

Feitan watched with surprise. Why weren’t you dead yet? That much poison could’ve killed someone the size of Uvogin, yet  _ you’d  _ managed to scale the wall with ease, tapping into Nen you couldn’t seem to control. Waiting long enough, he zipped after you. The chase never tired him, sending a thrill to his core. It was like his body was made for it. The rush, the fear, the excitement; it was almost as pleasant as torture.

He caught you several streets away, pinning you to the spot with a swift grip on the wrist. You shuttered under his grasp, so sure you’d at least live for a few more hours. “You faster than I think.”

Your knees felt like they would buckle under the weight of your fear, but you did your best to resist falling. Your death would be a show regardless. At least it would all be over soon.

“Where you plan to go?” His nails dug into your wrist, stinging against the skin. “You think you can run?”

“Anywhere but here.” His grip on your wrist tightened, and you trembled. What a life to have lived. What a way for it all to end.

He pulled you back toward the building, bringing you inside. It looked like several members of the group were waiting there, lounging in the hopes of receiving orders soon.

Shalnark looked up at the pair of you in surprise. “What happened? I thought you were getting rid of her.”

“She escape,” he said, pushing you forward. You landed on your knees, hands clenching in the dust below you.

“Escape from  _ you _ ?” Shizuku asked, glancing up from her book. “Has that ever happened before?”

“He must be slipping,” grumbled Phinks.

Feitan looked at Chrollo, who was looking at him with as much surprise as the rest of the group. “I poison. She not die.”

“You poisoned me?” you whispered, hands freshly shaking again. It should’ve been over already.

Chrollo inspected you from over his book. “Have you trained?”

You shook your head, confused. Trained for what? To swallow poison? You didn’t think so. If you could withstand the toxin, it wasn’t intentional.

He glanced over to Feitan. “What does she do?”

“She common criminal. Worse than us. Quite sloppy.”

Shizuku gave him an irritated look. “ _ Everybody’s _ worse than us.”

“She still escaped, though,” Nobunaga pointed out.

All of them were staring at you, staring  _ through  _ you. The more you hoped it would be over soon, the more you feared they wanted something from you first. You had nothing worth giving them; you didn’t understand.

Chrollo stood, walking toward you. You resisted the urge to look away, heart rattling in your chest once again. You’d been resigned to your death before, but they’d drug it out so long that nervousness was consuming you. “Do you know what Nen is?” he asked.

“No.” You overheard two men talking about it once in a restaurant, the severity of their tone suggested you leave, but you had no idea what the words had meant, so you’d eventually brushed the thoughts aside.

Feitan looked at you in surprise. “You use to escape. Would be much slower otherwise.”

“I–” you looked around, glancing from Feitan to Chrollo nervously. “I don’t understand. I wasn’t trying to do whatever you think I was doing.”

“Other than escape?” Machi deadpanned.

You looked away then, hearing Chrollo’s footsteps fade.

“I don’t need a project, but if any of you would like one, you can help yourselves. She has potential. Quite a bit, I’d say.”

The silence was deafening.

“If not, Nobunaga should kill her. I’d hate for her to get away again.”

Feitan glowered. He could’ve killed you. Easily. He still could if Chrollo had asked. It wouldn’t have been hard, just quicker than he would’ve liked. But instead he watched Nobunaga step forward, unsheathing his sword. It wouldn’t be nearly as pleasant to watch.

You stared at the blade, gulping before looking away. At least things would be over soon. The agony of the unknown would finally cease. You closed your eyes as the figure retreated from your side, hoping to avoid excess blood splatter. The universe had led you to this point, this moment. If you were meant to die, maybe it was time.

Your head felt fuzzy, and your tongue fell to the pattern of words you’d known all your life, the ones you barely had to focus on.  “ _ Whatever fate has brought me here, allow this to be swift. If I must suffer for my theft, please let it be through my age rather than the pain. I can’t take much more of this. I need _ —”

“Stop.”

The word cut through the air, silencing both you and the blade posed above your bowed neck.

Feitan’s mind whirled, though his exterior remained impassive. How had you known to say that? Where had you come from? How had he managed to stumble upon another person like himself? Could it be real?

“What  _ now _ ?” Nobunaga groaned as he re-sheathed his sword. Working with Feitan could be so  _ frustrating _ .

You looked up, wild eyes meeting Feitan’s narrowed gaze. There was something in his face that was different, though no less intense than it was before. “I want to keep her.”

“Why?” Pakunoda asked.

“Where you come from?” he asked, ignoring the others.

All their eyes were on you. It was overwhelming. “I don’t know. They found me in Meteor City.”

Chrollo almost seemed to smile. “That explains her potential.”

“We should’ve killed the other kid,” Phinks grumbled. He hated wasting perfectly good forms of entertainment.

“She come with me. I train.” Feitan stepped toward you, extending a hand to help you stand. The sight was unnerving. Merely an hour ago he’d tried to poison you.

“Don’t let her get lost this time,” Uvo teased, receiving a glare in return.

“ _ Where did you learn to say those words _ ?” Feitan asked, barely more than a whisper as he pulled you away. You were sure the troupe was attentive enough to hear it, but you weren’t going to stop him.

“ _ It’s been in my soul since I was young. I don’t know why it’s there or how it got there. _ ”  Your heart thundered in your throat. He spoke the language, too?

“ _ But you speak English _ ?”

You nodded, following him down another hallway.  “ _ I needed to learn. My first master never tolerated confusion. _ ”

“ _ Is he still alive _ ?”

You shrugged. “ _ I left Meteor City many years ago _ _. _ ”

He brought you into a room, grinning over his bandana. The sight made your stomach turn. “ _ You will train to kill him. Your first mission _ .”

You stopped, sending him an incredulous look. “ _ I’m no assassin _ .”

He laughed at that. “ _I noticed. But if you do well enough, you_ can _be. You have the potential. Enough to possibly join us someday_.”

“ _ Us _ ?”

“The Phantom Troupe. The Spiders.”

You reached for the nearest wall, steadying yourself. The day had been so much to take in. The Phantom Troupe? The murdering bandits of Meteor City? “ _ You aren’t going to kill me _ ?”

He chuckled, pouring water into a glass. You decided you wouldn’t drink it. “ _ Clearly you aren’t ready to die just yet. It’s rare I find someone that can outdo me _ _. _ ” He beckoned you closer, and you settled on the floor in front of him.

“ _ You weren’t trying very hard _ . ”

He nodded. “ _ That’s true _ _. _ ” Placing a leaf on the water, he smiled. “ _ But as soon as we know how you need to be trained, you’ll have to continue earning your survival _ . ”

“ _ Will that ever stop _ ?” You held your hands to the side of the glass the way he demonstrated.

“ _ Doubtful _ .”

Just like that, things had failed to end for you. With the devious Spider guiding your training, you grew stronger every day. And each passing moment he hoped more and more that you and your personality that so completely complemented his own would stay a little longer. He challenged you every second, but you’d already earned your place. Through whispered words that only the two of you could understand, he reminded you of that. You’d found a place. A person. A life. Yours wasn’t over yet. He’d make sure of that.

It wouldn’t be over anytime soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little note for y'all! I have a bunch of stuff that I'm currently working on and a few pieces that have been prewritten. However, writing and posting will be sparse this week as I deal with school. I'm hoping to be able to write a lot more in December! Thanks for sticking with me! :)


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